


Snowballs and Cider

by WritesEveryBlueMoon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley and Aziraphale bicker like an old married couple, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Post-Canon, Snow, Snowball Fight, no swearing in a surprising twist for me, romantic undertones, there is romance but it's mostly gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28786917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritesEveryBlueMoon/pseuds/WritesEveryBlueMoon
Summary: While on a friendly visit to the antichrist and his friends, Aziraphale and Crowley are inadvertently challenged to a snowball fight. With miracles, demonic powers, and an overly-sympathetic angel, it is as chaotic as one would expect.
Relationships: Aziraphale & The Them (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & The Them (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24
Collections: Good Snowmens Winter Gift Exchange





	Snowballs and Cider

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Perhapsormaybe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perhapsormaybe/gifts).



> Happy holidays! I hope you're having a wonderful winter, and enjoy this ridiculous fluff-fest of a fic

It was snowing in Tadfield, as had become common during the past eleven years. The town looked beautiful, like something straight out of a painting. The perfect kind of snow, it was fluffy, with enough falling to look picturesque, but not to the extent that any eleven year old was in danger of being asked to shovel the path.

Aziraphale loved snow, and he loved the happiness it brought to the town and neighbouring cottages. All around, people were bundled up to walk their dogs, their greeting holding more cheer than normal. Couples sat snuggled up on benches, sharing a flask of tea and teasing one another. Children ran amok, throwing snowballs and making snowmen. There was love all around, and it was beautiful.

Crowley did not like snow in the slightest. To him, the cheer was irritating and obnoxious, the couples were sickeningly sweet, and the children’s yells were loud and annoying.

Most importantly, it was _freezing._

“You would think,” he grumbled as the two celestials strolled through the town, “that a place where the weather is controlled by a former antichrist, would be a little less sodding cold.”

“Maybe,” Aziraphale replied, the hint of a smirk in his voice, “young Adam enjoys the crisp chill.”

“Ah yes, this is _clearly_ wonderful for them. No end to the mischief you can get up to when you’re freezing your arse off.”

“I would have thought you’d encourage such mischief.”

“Not when I have to deal with the effects of it,” Crowley scowled.

“Well, we’re just popping by for a friendly visit, and then we’ll be back to London, where you can miracle my bookshop to a temperature as obscenely warm as you like.”

“Oh, c’mon, I know you enjoy it.”

“You may not be _completely_ wrong,” Aziraphale reluctantly admitted, “but it has been rather a long time since we had any weather resembling this.”

“Several decades since we had it for more than a couple of days, yes.”

“I’m guessing another one of your petty demonic schemes is behind that.”

“Well, it’s not as if anyone’s missing it.”

“ _I_ miss it.”

“You only miss it looking at it. In fact, you would close up and deliberately avoid leaving your bookshop at the slightest snowfall.”

“Well,” Aziraphale said miffedly, “it’s hardly as if those toxic chemicals warming things up have done anyone any good.”

“I just found things all a bit cold, how was I to know they’d take it so far?”

“Humans rarely do these things half-heartedly,” Aziraphale reluctantly agreed.

“Yeah,” Crowley sighed, “it’s bloody exhausting.”

“Does have its upsides though,” Aziraphale said thoughtfully, “after all, that cider I’m fond of would not be nearly as lovely if they hadn’t been so stubborn about perfecting it.”

“Angel, I love you, but your taste in cider is an atrocity.”

Aziraphale looked affronted, “Just because _some_ _of us_ don’t like the taste of bitter apples!”

“Do you even _know_ what dry cider is…”

The two continued with their harmless yet passionate debate as they walked through the village, garnering a few amused glances as they passed.

Hogback Wood was significantly quieter, with only the crunch of snow beneath their feet and occasional birdsong to be heard, aside from their bickering.

As often happened with them, they never did reach a conclusion; Aziraphale suddenly became distracted by a singing robin, and accidentally pulled Crowley into a pile of snow in his eagerness to show him.

“ _Angel_ ,” Crowley complained as he clambered up.

“Oh, I’m so sorry my dear,” Aziraphale’s face softened in concern as he hastened to help his demon.

Not having the heart to tell off the clearly remorseful angel, Crowley muttered, “Tis alright,” electing instead to glare at the bird, which he now realised was chirping ‘hark the herald angels sing’.

“I hate this place,” he muttered to himself.

Aziraphale, who had been casually wandering along the path while Crowley admonished the robin, abruptly stopped to call out; “Crowley, dear, I believe we’re approaching young Adam!”

“How the blazes could you tell that?” Crowley asked, as he hurried to catch up.

Aziraphale shrugged faux-nonchalantly, “Must just be a divine sense.”

“Right,” Crowley responded skeptically. He leaned on the angel while he caught his breath, and faintly heard the unmistakable, rambunctious yells of Adam and his friends.

“Ohhh,” Crowley gave an overdramatic sound of realisation. “You know, I think me and the humans might just have these ‘divine senses’ too. Nifty little things called ears, simply fascinating.”

“Oh hush you,” Aziraphale admonished, though there was no anger behind his words.

They walked through the trees until they came upon a clearing, where the Them were in the midst of a passionate snowball fight. They’d built what looked to be a snow witch, and had piled up the snow to create a slide of sorts in one area.

“Hello there!” Aziraphale attempted to amiably greet the children, in vain.

A surprisingly large snowball flew straight into Crowley.

“ _Oi, kids!_ ”

The chaos settled down, and four children turned to look at them in surprise.

“Oh, hello,” Wensleydale was the first to break the silence, adjusting his glasses and looking at them with unmasked curiosity.

“Well, this game of yours certainly seems like fun-” Aziraphale began, but was interrupted by a rather nettled Crowley.

“Are you lot not going to apologise for attacking me?”

The four friends looked at each other and then turned back and shrugged.

“It is a fight,” Wensleydale explained, “so some casualties are inevitable.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” Crowley rolled up his sleeves (despite his exhaustive rant about the cold just half an hour before) and gathered four balls of snow alarmingly fast, hitting every member of the Them square in the face.

“Attack!” Adam yelled in excitement, and the Them began hurtling snowballs at Crowley with no hesitation.

“Oh goodness, this is a bit much,” Aziraphale said with slight alarm.

“Eh, might as well let the kids have their fun,” Crowley shrugged, and began miracling snowballs towards the Them, “especially when it’s clear that I’m going to smash them.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale chided him.

The snowball fight was now the Them versus Crowley, and both were merciless in their attack.

However, Crowley had the literal power of Hell to yield, and the Them were slowly weakening from the barricade of snowballs being thrown their way.

Aziraphale sighed, and with a quick miracle, the snow around him began to rise and form perfect spheres. The snowball fight participants watched in dread as they sped towards the center of the clearing…

...before taking a sharp turn and catapulting into Crowley.

The Them screamed in glee, dancing around and letting out whoops and cheers.

“ _Angel!_ ” Crowley said from the snowpile, with muffled betrayal.

“I’m sorry darling, but it just wasn’t fair!”

“Well then,” Crowley, probably using a miracle, stood up gracefully, “I’ll just need to beat all of you.”

“Pffft,” Pepper let out manic laughter, “like you’ll be able to manage that.”

Several snowballs came shooting towards her, and she jumped to the side, using the failed attack as ammunition to throw at the rather befuddled demon.

The fight recommenced in vigour, and while, to his credit, Crowley was a difficult and somewhat annoying opponent, the Them and Aziraphale’s combined efforts quickly weakened his power. He was obviously struggling, though far too stubborn to admit any such thing.

“Quick!” Pepper exclaimed in excitement, “Let’s hit him with one last massive one, there’s no way he’ll win after that!”

The four children gathered an extraordinarily large ball of snow, and with the help of a miracle from Aziraphale, it was zooming towards Crowley.

Until it stopped in midair, and turned around.

It hit the Them with an almighty thwack, and Crowley let out a mad cackle.

“Good one, angel!”

“Sir Angel!” Brian exclaimed in betrayal, “How could you?!”

“Well,” the angel fumbled, “he was _clearly_ struggling -”

“Oi!”

“- and it just didn’t feel fair, all of us against him!”

“Alright then,” Pepper scrambled to her feet and pushed Aziraphale down the snow slide, “join him!”

“Yeah!” Brian called, “We don’t need magic to beat you!”

“Actually -” Wensleydale began, but Adam gave him a pointed look.

“Well _really_ ,” Aziraphale said, most displeased.

Crowley grinned, “You ready to beat them?”

“Indeed, we shall do a masterful job of it.”

There were a great deal more snowballs, a great many more miracles, and Aziraphale felt bad and swapped sides four more times before he was eventually excluded from both. For about two minutes, at least, after which Crowley, hating to see his angel so despondent, let him join their side again.

Ultimately, the fight was not won by either team, but instead all participants growing bored of the back and forth.

With one incredibly large, (and possibly antichrist-power assisted) snowball launched at the two celestials, the Them were declared victorious.

“You know,” Crowley said conversationally, as they walked back through the woods to Tadfield, “I very clearly let you win.”

“Yeah right, you just don’t want to admit we beat you,” Pepper taunted smugly.

“Actually,” Wensleydale said, “it is likely that they willingly were beaten, because it was getting rather boring, and it’s going dark.”

“Even if they let us win because they didn’t want to play anymore, they still lost because they didn’t have the guts to continue,” Adam said with a tone of finality.

“Yeah, we won fair and square,” Brian contributed cheerfully.

Crowley made to argue back, but was silenced by a look from Aziraphale. “Okay,” he rolled his eyes, “you won _this time_. But we’ll definitely beat you during the next one.”

“Oh, are you going to come and see us again soon then?” Wensleydale asked, curious. All four of the Them turned to look at the demon with mirrored curiosity.

“Well…” Crowley fumbled, unable to come up with any fair excuse, “I suppose so, yes.”

“Wicked!” Adam grinned, and the four friends began chattering in excitement, while Crowley rolled his eyes and Aziraphale looked at the demon with pure love.

* * *

“Looks like we’ll be heading out here to visit young Adam and his friends again in the near future,” Aziraphale said lightly, as the two of them clambered into the bentley for the inevitably far-too-fast journey home.

“Well, it wasn’t so bad at the end of things. Still hate the bloody cold though.”

“I must say, I’ve grown less fond of it after that snow scuffle,” Aziraphale admitted.

“Good thing we have the nice warm bookshop and a bottle of the finest italian cider - plus a bottle of that sickly sweet stuff you like - awaiting us.”

Aziraphale wrinkled his nose thoughtfully, “I can’t recall buying any cider recently.”

“Eh, I’m sure one of us has stocked up at some point,” Crowley replied nonchalantly.

In truth, neither of them had gotten around to buying any alcohol for close to a year, but nevertheless they would return home to find everything cosy and well warmed, with the cider there waiting purely by virtue of them having expected it. Of course, it mattered very little after Aziraphale had brought out an assortment of his finer wines.

And if they woke up the next morning snuggled together? Well, it had clearly been for the sake of warmth.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I'd only had cider once at a party years ago before this prompt, and even after a very interesting evening of 'research' all I could really gather was that I, like Aziraphale, very much prefer it sickly sweet. How do yall like the stuff?
> 
> Please comment/kudos if you enjoyed this fic! I can be found on my Tumblr, @gwenstacyismyicon, my rarely used Twitter @onlybluemoons, and on various GO Discord servers. Thanks for reading!


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